


your ex-lover is (literally) dead

by fvartoxin



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Anyways did anyone try the chicken? I thought the chicken was lovely, Duncan is Weird to cope, He's God's mistake and I'm just here to showcase him to all of you because he won't leave me alone, I love you A03tagoftheday, Only he doesn't STAY dead, Other, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Somebody fucking dies part 2: Electric Boogaloo, That's just always been his personality, Which is unfortunate for him, there's a cancer mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:21:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22853890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fvartoxin/pseuds/fvartoxin
Summary: Old man talks to his ghostly ex-wife, who was also a past abuser of his. They are pretty okay with each other by this point in time, although he will quite literally never forgive her for as long as he lives.Which, knowing him, will be a very, VERY long time.[shhhhh I know this is old but I was and still am proud of this]





	your ex-lover is (literally) dead

His stomach hurt. Frankly, the rest of his lower digestive system was in utter agony as well. As he sat, misaligned jaws clenched from the pain and front claws digging into the heat-dried and tightly-packed patch of wetland beneath him, he wondered what the issue could be _this_ time around. He knew for a (rather disgusting) fact that it wasn't caused by constipation, at the very least. And in addition, and given that his oversensitive shitfuck of a body was both full-masted and running like a stream earlier, he was 100% sure that he still didn't have the equipment to ooze blood in a heat cycle. Maybe it was bloat. Could have been brought on by stress of some kind; he knew he'd been worrying a lot about Prozan lately, but the ruddy queen seemed to be doing perfectly fine as a new deputy - just in case, he'd been keeping an eye on her whenever he wasn't sleeping. He doubted it was cancer again, never mind the fact that, the last time, it'd been a prostate issue that had tagged his ass (literally??? literally) in the end. Under his breath, he muttered a quiet curse to the stars above as he habitually worked his jaw muscles. He was probably grinding his teeth again, not that he was honestly noticing. It was a good thing his stomach had been empty for quite a while, he thought as a particularly bad wave of pain compelled him to dry-heave. Not even bile came up. It hurt to move on a good day, and the usual pain in his hips, bad leg, and groin was just about rivaling the ache in his organs at the moment. For a split second he wondered if he was dying again, his opioid-damaged brain quickly cycling through theoretical lists of reasons before he finally decided that, no, not even an otherworldly force could be that kind. It took all of his energy not to writhe in agony, and by this point he was dimly aware of his grandson being sent for by Bearclaw - Hawktalon was out for once, either collecting herbs or fraternizing with the other medicine cats. Good. He was around 98% sure his mate hadn't even seen the world outside their shared den, let alone RapidClan's camp in general, for several months. Duncan soon relinquished his tight grip on the ground, choosing to shut his eyes and to lie in a twitching heap. If he cared about that kind of thing, he would have pitied whoever had to drag his sorry living corpse along to the medicine den. For one thing, just about everyone in the Clan was easily dwarfed by him, and on another matter he doubted that he was currently able to support his own weight. Not that he weighed as much as a healthy tomcat to begin with, but given all that fur cloaking his body he certainly wasn't feather-light.

Regardless of that, there was a sensation of being dragged along the ground, and a low hiss reached his ears. "Father, don't," the ruddy moggy groaned through a jawful of all-too-loose scruff, and it became clear to the elder in an instant that the only child of his who really seemed to care about him (which was fair, given that years of stunted emotion and heavy drug abuse had led to neglect. They all had every right in the world to be angry at him, but that didn't mean it couldn't hurt when he put effort into making amends) was present. His sharp nose caught the honeyed scent of Taizo as well, hovering a little farther off. He did not bother to open his eyes again, and instead focused on the feeling of his own breathing coming in pants and gasps, fast and shallow. His three good legs spasmed, and Prozan grunted softly as he struck her in the chest. Had he been able, he would have winced at the sound. There was a silence, and then he was sure he lost consciousness.

 _"You're not dead,"_ was the first thing she said, before he could even speak. The chocolate-colored tabby who'd tormented him so long ago turned to face him, then sat, curling her tail around her paws. "Though, believe me, you came...oddly close. Your grandson's been working on your near-corpse of a self for what, about half an hour now? He is a fine child." The stars in her fur, once glittering, were now dim. Few remembered her, and perhaps in the end he was the only thing keeping the former ShadowClan warrior 'alive'. "And, Duncan. It was not my choice to appear to you today. I've respected our agreement for years now, why would I break it?" Mousefur offered a tired half-smile, knowing that he deserved nothing from her but figuring that there wasn't a point in running. She looked back at the river just behind her to make a point. One misplaced paw or a deliberate strike, and the StarClan cat could easily be swept away.

True to his nature, Duncan curled his lip, hackles rising as he spoke. "...y've got a point," he began slowly, tone wary and ears flatter than before. Many of the words that could be exchanged between them already had been uttered at some point in time. He did not move for quite a while; did not strike her nor tackle her. The tortoiseshell remained as still as stone, and ice blue and amber eyes locked steadily. "Not that I genuinely care about pleasantries, but," and here he looked strained if anything, "how's things? Gotta be pretty boring up here." Even now, there was that familiar stirring in his groin, and, stars, at least physical things didn't _hurt_ so badly up here. He swallowed thickly, some of that typical fire entering his gaze as he rumbled out a "it's been a while. For good reason. Anyways. Y'miss this dick yet?" His grin, though as lecherous as ever, was a little more fear-driven than he would have liked it to be; though there was palpable anger mixed in as well. Slowly, he took a few deliberate steps towards her, sizing her up. And true to form, he easily towered over his ex-wife. His chest fur even brushed her ears, gentle where he himself was not.

To Mousefur's credit, she didn't flinch. "Things have been alright as they can be when one can walk for miles and still see nothing but endless riverbank. And you know very well why I'm currently here, I'm sure; to spend the afterlife atoning." She picked up a forepaw, rasping her tongue over the pad before setting it down again. "The least I can do is accept eternal solitary confinement. We've both made mistakes in life, mine far worse than yours in this situation. We were young, and I was narrow-minded and foolish enough to throw any pretense of morals out like old prey. As for that comment...we need each other like we need snapped spines. I can't say that would be proper."

"No shit," he grunted in response. "And, what can I say, ehh? We're **both** hypocrites. Maybe we were born hypocrites, who knows." Duncan then lowered himself to his haunches, shifting his weight from side to side until he got comfortable. "I have standards, 'least. And I'm hoping that all these years of being cold and dead have taught ya a few things in that department, too." Pointedly, he broke off to side-eye her before continuing. "Do I blame you, after all this time? I'd be a dumbass not to. But, lookin' back at everything I've done, I can't say I don't deserve the nightmares. Or how most tabbies make my skin crawl nowadays." He punctuated this with an incredibly half-hearted chuckle.

"They have," she assented with a dip of the head. "I realize that it's pointless to tell you to trust me, but eternal solitude teaches you many things. I won't get into that now, though. You don't want to hear it, and I can understand why." Noting how the fur along his spine still spiked, she shuffled to the side and put a bit more distance between them. "Oh? _You_ , being hard on yourself? That's a first, certainly. Then again, we all have ways of surprising others."

" **You** sure as hell did, if anything," he grumbled, and his features twisted in a very scrunched way as he scowled at her. "...What I had with you ain't why I haven't fucked a woman in years, but I suppose someone out there's making that case." With a roll of the eyes and a soft "ha!", he settled for staring into the distance.

"I can't blame you for that, in any case," she responded evenly. "We didn't start off well, and we certainly didn't end well. Anyone who thought we did either doesn't pay attention or is simply lying to themselves." With that, she was quiet, and the minutes seemed to stretch into hours. They sat close together on that riverbank, no longer quite friends, but no longer entirely enemies.

The light-speckled scenery of StarClan began to fade soon enough, and soon the old tomcat awoke in his nest, squinting through blurred eyes. He spotted the beings in the room by scent first rather than sight, and was made aware of Prozan dozing a safe distance away. Featherstar had been pushing her hard, and he couldn't blame his daughter for wanting to sneak a quick nap in. Evidently, Hawktalon had not returned yet; their brother was presumably out looking for them. Perhaps that was better.

Taizo was the one who broke the silence. "I've never seen a cat try to vomit its own stomach lining before," the long-furred tabby murmured, his high voice dripping with concern. "But there's a first time for everything. I guess. Just relax for a while - and please, try not to move." This last part had only been stated because the chocolate tortoiseshell had indeed tried to get up, only to be unable to even make it to a half sitting position and come crashing down to the moss bed again. "You may be sick for a few moon cycles, but that's what stronger bacteria-killing remedies are for. Trying to force things down your throat is never a pretty sight, so just tell me the moment you start feeling pain again." He was undoubtedly in full Doctor Mode.

"...Mmm." He's got nothing pertinent to say to this; he did not bother to argue and merely rested his head on his forelegs, looking at the young tom through slitted eyes. "Will do, kid." Perhaps he'd take a nap before Hawktalon came rushing in to fuss over their (far more fragile) mate; being knocked unconscious by your own body was hardly the same thing as getting a good few hours of sleep. Soon again he drifted off, and this time around his former lover was not present in his dreams.


End file.
